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Για τις γάτες
«Όταν διαλύομαι, απλά κοιτάζω μια ή περισσότερες από τις γάτες μου. Έχω 9. Απλά κοιτάζω κάποια να κοιμάται ή να μισοκοιμάται κι ηρεμώ. Η γραφή είναι επίσης η γάτα μου. Η γραφή με αφήνει να αντιμετωπίζω τα πράγματα. Με χαλαρώνει.»
Κείμενα του Τσαρλς Μπουκόβσκι αστεία, συγκινητικά, άλλοτε σκληρά και άλλοτε τρυφερά, για τις γάτες που το διεισδυτικό τους βλέμμα τον μάγευε, που τις θαύμαζε και στην αντίληψή τους υποκλινόταν. Ποιήματα και πεζά για τις γάτες- αυτούς τους "ωραίους διαβόλους", όπως τις αποκαλούσε- τα οποία τις παρουσιάζουν στην πιο αδίστακτη και ανθεκτική πλευρά τους: είναι κυνηγοί, είναι μαχητικές και κάνουν τα πάντα για να επιβιώσουν, προκαλούν δέος και κερδίζουν τον σεβασμό, έτσι όπως με πείσμα γαντζώνονται στη ζωή. Ίσως γι' αυτό ο Μπουκόβσκι θεωρούσε τα πλάσματα αυτά εφ' όρου ζωής δασκάλους του.
Μια τραχιά, μα τρυφερή και αστεία ματιά στη σχέση των ανθρώπων με τις γάτες από έναν από τους πιο αγαπημένους και οριακούς συγγραφείς του κόσμου.
«Η γάτα είναι μονάχα Ο ΕΑΥΤΟΣ ΤΗΣ. Αντιπροσωπεύει τις ισχυρές δυνάμεις της ΖΩΗΣ που δεν τα παρατούν.»
Κείμενα του Τσαρλς Μπουκόβσκι αστεία, συγκινητικά, άλλοτε σκληρά και άλλοτε τρυφερά, για τις γάτες που το διεισδυτικό τους βλέμμα τον μάγευε, που τις θαύμαζε και στην αντίληψή τους υποκλινόταν. Ποιήματα και πεζά για τις γάτες- αυτούς τους "ωραίους διαβόλους", όπως τις αποκαλούσε- τα οποία τις παρουσιάζουν στην πιο αδίστακτη και ανθεκτική πλευρά τους: είναι κυνηγοί, είναι μαχητικές και κάνουν τα πάντα για να επιβιώσουν, προκαλούν δέος και κερδίζουν τον σεβασμό, έτσι όπως με πείσμα γαντζώνονται στη ζωή. Ίσως γι' αυτό ο Μπουκόβσκι θεωρούσε τα πλάσματα αυτά εφ' όρου ζωής δασκάλους του.
Μια τραχιά, μα τρυφερή και αστεία ματιά στη σχέση των ανθρώπων με τις γάτες από έναν από τους πιο αγαπημένους και οριακούς συγγραφείς του κόσμου.
«Η γάτα είναι μονάχα Ο ΕΑΥΤΟΣ ΤΗΣ. Αντιπροσωπεύει τις ισχυρές δυνάμεις της ΖΩΗΣ που δεν τα παρατούν.»
135 pages, Paperback
Published December 1, 2019
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5932 people want to read
About the author
Charles Bukowski
848 books29.9k followersHenry Charles Bukowski (born as Heinrich Karl Bukowski) was a German-born American poet, novelist and short story writer. His writing was influenced by the social, cultural and economic ambience of his home city of Los Angeles.It is marked by an emphasis on the ordinary lives of poor Americans, the act of writing, alcohol, relationships with women and the drudgery of work. Bukowski wrote thousands of poems, hundreds of short stories and six novels, eventually publishing over sixty books
Charles Bukowski was the only child of an American soldier and a German mother. At the age of three, he came with his family to the United States and grew up in Los Angeles. He attended Los Angeles City College from 1939 to 1941, then left school and moved to New York City to become a writer. His lack of publishing success at this time caused him to give up writing in 1946 and spurred a ten-year stint of heavy drinking. After he developed a bleeding ulcer, he decided to take up writing again. He worked a wide range of jobs to support his writing, including dishwasher, truck driver and loader, mail carrier, guard, gas station attendant, stock boy, warehouse worker, shipping clerk, post office clerk, parking lot attendant, Red Cross orderly, and elevator operator. He also worked in a dog biscuit factory, a slaughterhouse, a cake and cookie factory, and he hung posters in New York City subways.
Bukowski published his first story when he was twenty-four and began writing poetry at the age of thirty-five. His first book of poetry was published in 1959; he went on to publish more than forty-five books of poetry and prose, including Pulp (1994), Screams from the Balcony (1993), and The Last Night of the Earth Poems (1992).
He died of leukemia in San Pedro on March 9, 1994.
Charles Bukowski was the only child of an American soldier and a German mother. At the age of three, he came with his family to the United States and grew up in Los Angeles. He attended Los Angeles City College from 1939 to 1941, then left school and moved to New York City to become a writer. His lack of publishing success at this time caused him to give up writing in 1946 and spurred a ten-year stint of heavy drinking. After he developed a bleeding ulcer, he decided to take up writing again. He worked a wide range of jobs to support his writing, including dishwasher, truck driver and loader, mail carrier, guard, gas station attendant, stock boy, warehouse worker, shipping clerk, post office clerk, parking lot attendant, Red Cross orderly, and elevator operator. He also worked in a dog biscuit factory, a slaughterhouse, a cake and cookie factory, and he hung posters in New York City subways.
Bukowski published his first story when he was twenty-four and began writing poetry at the age of thirty-five. His first book of poetry was published in 1959; he went on to publish more than forty-five books of poetry and prose, including Pulp (1994), Screams from the Balcony (1993), and The Last Night of the Earth Poems (1992).
He died of leukemia in San Pedro on March 9, 1994.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 714 reviews
August 28, 2020
my cat shit in my archives
he climbed into my Golden State Sunkist
orange box
and he shit on my poems
my original poems
saved for the university archives.
that one-eared fat black critic
he signed me off.
On Cats is a collection of musings, poetry, essays, photographs and excerpts from novels, all relating to Bukowski's love for (you guess it) cats. There's cats and there's Bukowski: you know how that works for me.
I regret nothing.
Even though Bukowski's writing is mostly associated with booze and women, but if if you're familiar with his writing, then you also know that he also loves cats and writes about them in his books.
Now here’s a beautiful cat. Its tongue hangs out, it’s cross-eyed. Its tail is chopped off. He’s beautiful, he’s got sense. We took him to the vet to have him x-rayed—he got hit by a car. The doctor says, ‘This cat’s been run over twice, he’s been shot, his tail’s been cut off.’ I said, ‘This cat is me.’ He came to the door starving to death. He knew right where to come. We’re both bums off the street.
Bukowski writes about cats with a certain melancholy. He writes about each of their tragic fates, and how he can relate to them, and loves them.
I find my place, pull into the driveway, park it, get out, just another old matador. But inside, as I open the door, my favorite white cat, The Jinx, leaps up into my arms and suddenly I am in love again.
"In my next life I want to be a cat. To sleep 20 hours a day and wait to be fed. To sit around licking my ass. Humans are too miserable and angry and single-minded." Photo: Butch Bukowski
April 29, 2023
I love cats and I love Bukowski and so it was natural that I loved this book! I didn’t even know it existed until I saw it at the library and then of course I had to borrow it.
I particularly loved the photos of Bukowski and his cats. Also the way he talks about his own cats, his love for them and their personalities.
I particularly loved the photos of Bukowski and his cats. Also the way he talks about his own cats, his love for them and their personalities.
August 31, 2020
My long time Goodreads friends know that I love baseball, have a celebrity crush on a quarterback, and that my favorite authors are Isabel Allende and Doris Kearns Goodwin. What they might not know is that in addition to four kids, we have nine cats. I never had a pet as a kid for a myriad of reasons, but my husband had many animals wander in and out of his house. Our youngest daughter who is now nearly ten was born a cat lover and had been begging for a cat for years. My husband did not want to do it. He was concerned how the kids would react when the cats got old and perished, how I who wears my emotions on my sleeves would react. One day my daughter’s pleas got to him, and he caved and we adopted our first cat, but we thought that she would need a friend to keep her company when we were all out of the house. Cat number two joined our family, followed by seven more in the course of the last few years. Suffice it to say, our family has banned ourselves from stepping foot in Pet-Valu hence another feline begs to join our home. We went from having no pets at all to being that “crazy cat family,” and we would not have it any other way.
Summer vacation ends when we get up tomorrow morning. I wanted a light book to finish up my August reading because I knew that come morning it is back to school (kids) and work (me) and the daily grind that comes with it. Earlier this week I saw the book On Cats on my Goodreads feed. A short collection of poetry by the late great Charles Bukowski, this is the ornery writer’s ode to his cats. I had never read any of his work before, but the book description noted that the author owned nine cats, so I felt a solidarity to him in a way that only an owner of multiple pets can. Luckily my library system came through and I picked up this slim volume to read on a lazy Sunday afternoon. As expected, although bitter at times, this book is all about Bukowski’s love affair with his cats. For me, it was love at first page.
Bukowski notes that the cat is the devil. He feels love every time that he looks into the yellow eyes of his special feline friends, a love he does not always receive from encounters from humans. Although Bukowski comes across as a grumpy old man who would rather be reading and writing, he showered all of his cats with love and affection, noting that cats are superior to humans. His anecdote about Manx is especially touching and shows cats’ resilience and that maybe cats really do have nine lives. Bukowski might come across as repetitive here because others edited this collection after his passing. His most poignant words: that he would like to come back to earth as a cat. All they do is sleep twenty hours a day and shower their owners with love.
Tomorrow it is back to school and work for the first time in half a year. I am sure that it there will be an adjustment period for all of the cats, but thankfully they have each other to keep them company. I know that I will miss them as much as they miss me, and I will be sure to shower them with love and treats and tuna when I walk in the door. Charles Bukowski’s words ended my summer on a positive note and could not have done a better job in describing the uniqueness of the human-cat dynamic.
3.5 stars 😻 💕🐈
Summer vacation ends when we get up tomorrow morning. I wanted a light book to finish up my August reading because I knew that come morning it is back to school (kids) and work (me) and the daily grind that comes with it. Earlier this week I saw the book On Cats on my Goodreads feed. A short collection of poetry by the late great Charles Bukowski, this is the ornery writer’s ode to his cats. I had never read any of his work before, but the book description noted that the author owned nine cats, so I felt a solidarity to him in a way that only an owner of multiple pets can. Luckily my library system came through and I picked up this slim volume to read on a lazy Sunday afternoon. As expected, although bitter at times, this book is all about Bukowski’s love affair with his cats. For me, it was love at first page.
Bukowski notes that the cat is the devil. He feels love every time that he looks into the yellow eyes of his special feline friends, a love he does not always receive from encounters from humans. Although Bukowski comes across as a grumpy old man who would rather be reading and writing, he showered all of his cats with love and affection, noting that cats are superior to humans. His anecdote about Manx is especially touching and shows cats’ resilience and that maybe cats really do have nine lives. Bukowski might come across as repetitive here because others edited this collection after his passing. His most poignant words: that he would like to come back to earth as a cat. All they do is sleep twenty hours a day and shower their owners with love.
Tomorrow it is back to school and work for the first time in half a year. I am sure that it there will be an adjustment period for all of the cats, but thankfully they have each other to keep them company. I know that I will miss them as much as they miss me, and I will be sure to shower them with love and treats and tuna when I walk in the door. Charles Bukowski’s words ended my summer on a positive note and could not have done a better job in describing the uniqueness of the human-cat dynamic.
3.5 stars 😻 💕🐈
March 29, 2016
A book of Bukowski's short pieces and poetry all about his love of cats? Admittedly I was sold before I cracked a page. Bukowski's love and admiration for his feline friends shines through every page and it's easy to see why. His rough-and-tumble group of strays share so many of the writers traits it's no wonder they gravitated toward one another. It was wonderful reading from this softer side of a man who is widely remembered as a gruff, alcohol loving womanizer. I thought I couldn't love the man anymore then I already do and then suddenly he's a sweet, feline lovin' softie! I hope in the end Bukowski got his wish and moved on from his human life and into his next as a cat.
*Thank you Ecco and Edelweiss for this review copy
*Thank you Ecco and Edelweiss for this review copy
August 5, 2018
Bukowksi has a reputation for writing, often amusingly, about his experiences with booze and women. But if you know his writing, you also know he loves and writes about cats. This collection is obviously made for cat lovers, some poems, some sections of his Chinaski novels.
The opening piece about Bukowski/Chinaski trying to impress a visitor about all the tricks his cat can do made me laugh aloud, since you already know the cat will not perform on command. “Shake my hand! Shake my HAND! Roll over!” Apparently shouting will make the cat more responsive? (I have cats and know the answer).
Buk’s kind of sentimental when it comes to cats: “. . . warm light alone tonight in this house, alone with 6 cats who tell me without effort all that there is to know.”
“TV can make me ill in five minutes, but I can look at an animal for hours and find nothing but grace and glory, life as it should be.”
“In my next life I want to be a cat. To sleep 20 hours a day and wait to be fed. To sit around licking my ass. Humans are too miserable and angry and single-minded.”
I listened to it on audiotape while sometimes watching my cats.
The opening piece about Bukowski/Chinaski trying to impress a visitor about all the tricks his cat can do made me laugh aloud, since you already know the cat will not perform on command. “Shake my hand! Shake my HAND! Roll over!” Apparently shouting will make the cat more responsive? (I have cats and know the answer).
Buk’s kind of sentimental when it comes to cats: “. . . warm light alone tonight in this house, alone with 6 cats who tell me without effort all that there is to know.”
“TV can make me ill in five minutes, but I can look at an animal for hours and find nothing but grace and glory, life as it should be.”
“In my next life I want to be a cat. To sleep 20 hours a day and wait to be fed. To sit around licking my ass. Humans are too miserable and angry and single-minded.”
I listened to it on audiotape while sometimes watching my cats.
August 16, 2024
The Beautiful Devil
Charles Bukowski (1920 -- 1994) was once an underground, cult figure but his reputation has grown since his death. His poetry, novels, and stories continue to be read and a steady stream of his writings has been published posthumously. "On Cats" is part of a trilogy of recent Bukowski books, together with "On Writing" and "On Love" edited by Abel Debritto, a Fulbright scholar and the author of the study "Charles Bukowski: King of the Underground". It is a good addition to the large body of Bukowski's writing.
The book consists of poems and short prose works about cats. Many of the works have been published before in other forms, but the specific texts in this book are each published for the first time. Debritto gives a useful list of sources at the end of the volume. For example, one of the best works in this collection is a poem called "The Mockingbird" which is about a mockingbird which receives an unhappy comeuppance after taunting a cat. This is one of Bukowski's best-known poems and appears in a collection titled "Mockingbird Wish Me Luck." The version in "On Cats" is basically identical to the published version, but it includes two words that were deleted when the poem reached its final form. Some of the works in this book, however, are published for the first time. The book also includes photographs of many of the cats Bukowski and his wife owned and loved over the years who are the subjects of some of the poems in this collection.
Readers familiar with Bukowski will not be surprised at his love for cats. In this book, cats are not sentimentalized and portrayed as furry, sweet little creatures. Many of the works, such as "The Mockingbird" show the hard, cruel side of cats as they pursue and kill birds. The book sometimes emphasizes cats as loners and as coming off the streets, characteristics of Bukowski himself. The book suggests that cats are comfortable with themselves, feel no guilt, and know how to relax by sleeping as much as twenty hours in a day. In the book's concluding poem, Bukowski states: "I study these/creatures./they are my/teachers."
On of the prose entries in the book is an excerpt from a 1960 letter Bukowski wrote to Sheri Martinelli. Bukowski says "[t]he cat is the beautiful devil." He continues his discussion of the cat;
"There are no spirits or gods in a cat, don't look for them, Shed. A cat is the picture of the eternal machinery, like the sea. You don't pet the sea because it's pretty but you pet a cat -- why?-- ONLY BECAUSE HE''LL LET YOU. And a cat never knows fear--finally -- he only winds up into the spring of the sea and the rock, and even in a death-fight he does not think of anything except the majesty of darkness."
With this posthumous book Bukowski joins poets including T.S. Elliott who have written a volume devoted to cats. This book will interest the growing group of Bukowski readers. It will also interest lovers of cats who are willing to hear a unique, tough-minded voice about their favorite animal.
Robin Friedman
Charles Bukowski (1920 -- 1994) was once an underground, cult figure but his reputation has grown since his death. His poetry, novels, and stories continue to be read and a steady stream of his writings has been published posthumously. "On Cats" is part of a trilogy of recent Bukowski books, together with "On Writing" and "On Love" edited by Abel Debritto, a Fulbright scholar and the author of the study "Charles Bukowski: King of the Underground". It is a good addition to the large body of Bukowski's writing.
The book consists of poems and short prose works about cats. Many of the works have been published before in other forms, but the specific texts in this book are each published for the first time. Debritto gives a useful list of sources at the end of the volume. For example, one of the best works in this collection is a poem called "The Mockingbird" which is about a mockingbird which receives an unhappy comeuppance after taunting a cat. This is one of Bukowski's best-known poems and appears in a collection titled "Mockingbird Wish Me Luck." The version in "On Cats" is basically identical to the published version, but it includes two words that were deleted when the poem reached its final form. Some of the works in this book, however, are published for the first time. The book also includes photographs of many of the cats Bukowski and his wife owned and loved over the years who are the subjects of some of the poems in this collection.
Readers familiar with Bukowski will not be surprised at his love for cats. In this book, cats are not sentimentalized and portrayed as furry, sweet little creatures. Many of the works, such as "The Mockingbird" show the hard, cruel side of cats as they pursue and kill birds. The book sometimes emphasizes cats as loners and as coming off the streets, characteristics of Bukowski himself. The book suggests that cats are comfortable with themselves, feel no guilt, and know how to relax by sleeping as much as twenty hours in a day. In the book's concluding poem, Bukowski states: "I study these/creatures./they are my/teachers."
On of the prose entries in the book is an excerpt from a 1960 letter Bukowski wrote to Sheri Martinelli. Bukowski says "[t]he cat is the beautiful devil." He continues his discussion of the cat;
"There are no spirits or gods in a cat, don't look for them, Shed. A cat is the picture of the eternal machinery, like the sea. You don't pet the sea because it's pretty but you pet a cat -- why?-- ONLY BECAUSE HE''LL LET YOU. And a cat never knows fear--finally -- he only winds up into the spring of the sea and the rock, and even in a death-fight he does not think of anything except the majesty of darkness."
With this posthumous book Bukowski joins poets including T.S. Elliott who have written a volume devoted to cats. This book will interest the growing group of Bukowski readers. It will also interest lovers of cats who are willing to hear a unique, tough-minded voice about their favorite animal.
Robin Friedman
July 11, 2019
Για σκυλομάνα που δεν τρέφει ανάλογα αισθηματα για τις γάτες ε δεν τα πήγαμε και άσχημα με το θειο τσαρλς
February 19, 2017
“In my next life I want to be a cat. To sleep 20 hours a day and wait to be fed. To sit around licking my ass.” I’d never read anything by Bukowski, so I wasn’t sure quite what to expect from this book, which is mostly composed of previously unpublished poems and short prose pieces about the author’s multiple cats. The tone is an odd mixture of gruff and sentimental. Make no mistake: his cats were all Real cats, in line with the Pratchett model. A white Manx cat, for instance, had been shot, run over, and had his tail cut off. Another was named Butch Van Gogh Artaud Bukowski. You wouldn’t mess with a cat with a macho name like that, would you? My favorite passage is from “War Surplus,” about an exchange he and his wife had with a store clerk:
(See also my blog post on Five Books about Cats.)
“what will the cats do if there is an explosion?”
“lady, cats are different than we are, they are of a lower order.”
“I think cats are better than we are,” I said.
the clerk looked at me. “we don’t have gas masks for cats.”
(See also my blog post on Five Books about Cats.)
August 31, 2018
After finding out Bukowski had a book about cats I immediately had to read it, and it turns out the man had 9 of them! Delighted.
July 30, 2022
The tailless, cross-eyed cat came to the door one day, and
we let him in. Old pink eyes. Quite a guy. Animals are inspirational.
They don't know how to lie. They are natural forces. TV can make
me ill in five minutes, but I can look at an animal for hours and
find nothing but grace and glory, life as it should be.
---
I wanted to name our cats
Ezra, Celine, Turgenev,
Ernie, Fyodor and
Gertrude
but
being a good guy
I let my wife
name them
and it came out:
Ting, Ding, Beeker,
Bhau, Feather and
beauty.
nary a Tolstoy
in the whole bloody
batch.
---
We now have 9 cats. The strays arrive and we can't
turn them away. We've got to stop. Damned cats get
me up early in the morning to let them out. If I don't,
they start ripping up the furniture. But they are won-
derful and beautiful animals. Cool. I know where the
expression 'cool cat' comes from now.
May 28, 2018
This:
these,
all they do is run, eat, sleep, shit and
fight
but at the moments they are still and they look
at me
with eyes
far more beautiful than any human eyes I have ever
seen.
they are good guys.
And this:
the strays keep arriving: now we have 5
cats and they are tenuous, flighty, con-
ceited, naturally bright and awesomely beautiful.
one of the finest things about cats is
that when you're feeling bad, very bad -
if you just look at cat cooling it
the way they do
it's a lesson in persevering against
the odds, and
if you can look at 5 cats that's 5 times better
Well, after all... maybe Bukowski is NOT strongly overrated. :P
these,
all they do is run, eat, sleep, shit and
fight
but at the moments they are still and they look
at me
with eyes
far more beautiful than any human eyes I have ever
seen.
they are good guys.
And this:
the strays keep arriving: now we have 5
cats and they are tenuous, flighty, con-
ceited, naturally bright and awesomely beautiful.
one of the finest things about cats is
that when you're feeling bad, very bad -
if you just look at cat cooling it
the way they do
it's a lesson in persevering against
the odds, and
if you can look at 5 cats that's 5 times better
Well, after all... maybe Bukowski is NOT strongly overrated. :P
Read
August 18, 2020The older I get, the more I can relate with cats. So I have to read this one. I worship GSDs but cats are like cats. Anything on cats, I will read. They make me cry less and appreciate the dark side of homo sapiens more. Because they're just there and it gets me to wonder about deep mundane things in my head.
March 25, 2020
It's not poetry
Just because
You write it
Like this
Just because
You write it
Like this
Read
January 26, 2018Dobra, wszystkie teksty o zwierzętach mnie rozczulają, śmieszą, uszczęśliwiają bądź zostawiają ze złamanym sercem. Więc to raczej oczywiste, że musiałam pokochać O kotach.
I nie, nie potrafię określić ile dałabym temu gwiazdek.
I nie, nie potrafię określić ile dałabym temu gwiazdek.
January 3, 2022
Video Review
I show what this book looks like on the link above and read my favourite poem.
--{original}--
Favourite Poem: looking at the cat's balls
Came here to laugh, and I did, but there are some great poems and stories here. Pleasantly surprised. Video review coming soon.
I show what this book looks like on the link above and read my favourite poem.
--{original}--
Favourite Poem: looking at the cat's balls
Came here to laugh, and I did, but there are some great poems and stories here. Pleasantly surprised. Video review coming soon.
May 9, 2019
"In my next life I want to be a cat. To sleep 20 hours a day and wait to be fed. To sit around licking my ass.”
I really enjoyed this book! Cat lovers of all kinds will surely appreciate this, but even if you're not a cat person, this wonderful book is worth reading!
February 18, 2022
I really should probably refrain from composing a review of this collection because I really can’t stand Bukowski as a general rule. I read this because I wanted to see if cats could chip away a small chunk of Bukowski’s perpetual narcissism. It turns out cats did make an evident impact on him and earned his respect and almost-love far more than humanity (especially women) ever could. And, while Bukowski could never love anything more than himself, apparently cats came pretty close. Three stars for those cats.
January 15, 2024
I've been wanting to read a Bukowski book for a while and naturally I wanted to start with his most famous ones, but then I saw this cat, kind of blacked out and now here I am having finished my first Bukowski.
Despite not having read one of his books before, I heard a lot of stuff about the author. Some good, some bad, but mainly that:
1) He wrote about manly men doing manly things such as drinking a lot of booze, getting into fights, and having lots of sex with utterly insignificant women.
2) That he was a bitter misanthrope and a huge asshole
Sounds promising, huh?
While I read all different kinds of books, this isn't what I'd usually go for (sounds like too much fragile masculinity for me to be honest) but as his books are this popular I thought that there had to be more to it and decided to give it a try.
And there really is more to it, or at least to this book. I mean, he still tells us all about the countless women he banged in his life and I really didn't need to know more about his balls, which are apparently mushy and huge (You probably didn't want to know that either, but I refuse to be the only one with this kind of knowledge.) but as it turns out Mr. Bukowski and I have something in common after all: Our love for cats.
And honestly? This is the best collection of cats stories/poems I've ever read.
Not only was it written incredibly well, it was fun and Bukowski was keeping it very real. He wrote right in the beginning that he didn't want to write sappy poems, so a lot of them are about what assholes cats are and I love it.
You know all these books on cats where the author tells you all about how wonderful, calm, majestic creatures they are and how their cats want to cuddle all the time, never break anything and are overall so perfect that you just want to barf?
And then you look at your own fur-child which sleeps 24/7 and spends the time he is awake biting your ankles and yelling for food...
So yeah, it was nice to have a different approach to a book on cats that still manages to appreciate cats without turning them into saints.
There is also nothing sweeter than a grumpy human with a love for cats.
This is probably my favorite poem in this collection because I find it hilarious:
A Reader
my cat shit in my archives
he climbed into my Golden State Sunkist
orange box
and he shit on my poems
my original poems
saved for the university archives.
That one-eared fat black critic
he signed me off.
Despite not having read one of his books before, I heard a lot of stuff about the author. Some good, some bad, but mainly that:
1) He wrote about manly men doing manly things such as drinking a lot of booze, getting into fights, and having lots of sex with utterly insignificant women.
2) That he was a bitter misanthrope and a huge asshole
Sounds promising, huh?
While I read all different kinds of books, this isn't what I'd usually go for (sounds like too much fragile masculinity for me to be honest) but as his books are this popular I thought that there had to be more to it and decided to give it a try.
And there really is more to it, or at least to this book. I mean, he still tells us all about the countless women he banged in his life and I really didn't need to know more about his balls, which are apparently mushy and huge (You probably didn't want to know that either, but I refuse to be the only one with this kind of knowledge.) but as it turns out Mr. Bukowski and I have something in common after all: Our love for cats.
And honestly? This is the best collection of cats stories/poems I've ever read.
Not only was it written incredibly well, it was fun and Bukowski was keeping it very real. He wrote right in the beginning that he didn't want to write sappy poems, so a lot of them are about what assholes cats are and I love it.
You know all these books on cats where the author tells you all about how wonderful, calm, majestic creatures they are and how their cats want to cuddle all the time, never break anything and are overall so perfect that you just want to barf?
And then you look at your own fur-child which sleeps 24/7 and spends the time he is awake biting your ankles and yelling for food...
So yeah, it was nice to have a different approach to a book on cats that still manages to appreciate cats without turning them into saints.
There is also nothing sweeter than a grumpy human with a love for cats.
This is probably my favorite poem in this collection because I find it hilarious:
A Reader
my cat shit in my archives
he climbed into my Golden State Sunkist
orange box
and he shit on my poems
my original poems
saved for the university archives.
That one-eared fat black critic
he signed me off.
Read
September 20, 2022`Pasa un gato y sacude a Shakespeare del lomo.
No quiero pintar como Mondrian, quiero pintar como un gorrión en las fauces de un gato. ´
Una recopilación de fragmentos y poemas dedicados en exclusiva a los gatos de Bk. Algunos nuevos y otros sacados de sus vastas novelas y poemas.
Lo curioso de esto es el cambio de registro que ha tenido Bukowski a lo largo de sus años, en los poemas de su primera etapa se nota cierta incoherencia orgánica que le da al poema ese estilo sucio y directo, en cambio, en los últimos años de su vida todo esto cambia, su poesía se torna más sensible y mucho mejor estructurada, mejor pensada, más filosófica, más reflexiva.
Bukowski me gusta por esa versatilidad de registro. En este caso los gatos son los protagonistas absolutos, viendo en los gatos callejeros el peso que lo acompañó toda la vida, el abandono, el maltrato y la supervivencia a cualquier precio.
El caso es que Bukowski nunca dejó de ser un salvaje, un salvaje que sabía muy bien lo que escribía.
Siempre es un placer volver a una obra suya.
No quiero pintar como Mondrian, quiero pintar como un gorrión en las fauces de un gato. ´
Una recopilación de fragmentos y poemas dedicados en exclusiva a los gatos de Bk. Algunos nuevos y otros sacados de sus vastas novelas y poemas.
Lo curioso de esto es el cambio de registro que ha tenido Bukowski a lo largo de sus años, en los poemas de su primera etapa se nota cierta incoherencia orgánica que le da al poema ese estilo sucio y directo, en cambio, en los últimos años de su vida todo esto cambia, su poesía se torna más sensible y mucho mejor estructurada, mejor pensada, más filosófica, más reflexiva.
Bukowski me gusta por esa versatilidad de registro. En este caso los gatos son los protagonistas absolutos, viendo en los gatos callejeros el peso que lo acompañó toda la vida, el abandono, el maltrato y la supervivencia a cualquier precio.
El caso es que Bukowski nunca dejó de ser un salvaje, un salvaje que sabía muy bien lo que escribía.
Siempre es un placer volver a una obra suya.
December 22, 2017
Το γατόνι συγγραφέας. Η αλήτικη φύση τους , talis qualis με τη φύση του Χανκ
November 12, 2020
Anyone expecting a ‘cutsie‘ book about cats will be taken aback. This is a book of poems by the inimitable Bukowski – edgy and raw.
I am not comfortable reviewing poetry. I do not deem myself qualified to do so. However, because of the subject matter of this volume I thought I’d ‘give it a go’. A ‘cat person’ since before I could walk, anything with cats as the subject has always interested me.
Bukowski is definitely a ‘cat person’. His relationship with them is one of mutual respect, reverence, admiration, understanding, and delight. Like an old stray himself, Bukowski’s rapport with his felines is profound.
“Animals are inspirational. They don’t know how to lie. They are natural forces.”
Interspersed with the cat poetry are wise reflections on life and aging:
“I don’t like love as a command, as a search. It must come to you, like a hungry cat at the door”.
“we laugh less and less, become more sane. all we want is the absence of others.”
Not without snippets of humor, “On Cats” will touch all those who have had a relationship with a cat. Bukowski talks about his favorite cat, Monday, a cross-eyed, shot, runover, de-tailed cat with reverence and deep respect. Then he talks about his ‘other’ favorite cat, and the reader realizes – with a smile – that they were all his ‘favorites’.
Bukowski, a german-born American poet and novelist has been coined “The Dirty Old Man of American letters”. He is someone everyone should read at some point in their lives. His poetic musings touch the soul.
Thanks to Harper Collins/Ecco via Edelweiss for providing me with this book in exchange for my review.
This review was originally published on my blog: Fictionophile.
Please feel free to view it there so that you can see the photos that are an integral part of this review.
I am not comfortable reviewing poetry. I do not deem myself qualified to do so. However, because of the subject matter of this volume I thought I’d ‘give it a go’. A ‘cat person’ since before I could walk, anything with cats as the subject has always interested me.
Bukowski is definitely a ‘cat person’. His relationship with them is one of mutual respect, reverence, admiration, understanding, and delight. Like an old stray himself, Bukowski’s rapport with his felines is profound.
“Animals are inspirational. They don’t know how to lie. They are natural forces.”
Interspersed with the cat poetry are wise reflections on life and aging:
“I don’t like love as a command, as a search. It must come to you, like a hungry cat at the door”.
“we laugh less and less, become more sane. all we want is the absence of others.”
Not without snippets of humor, “On Cats” will touch all those who have had a relationship with a cat. Bukowski talks about his favorite cat, Monday, a cross-eyed, shot, runover, de-tailed cat with reverence and deep respect. Then he talks about his ‘other’ favorite cat, and the reader realizes – with a smile – that they were all his ‘favorites’.
Bukowski, a german-born American poet and novelist has been coined “The Dirty Old Man of American letters”. He is someone everyone should read at some point in their lives. His poetic musings touch the soul.
Thanks to Harper Collins/Ecco via Edelweiss for providing me with this book in exchange for my review.
This review was originally published on my blog: Fictionophile.
Please feel free to view it there so that you can see the photos that are an integral part of this review.
October 30, 2015
I read these before bed for a week or so. Who knew Bukowski could be quite lovely? (Probably many people but not me.)
March 12, 2022
oh charles, how you baffle me
December 30, 2018
«The cat is the beautiful devil»
Personal Interpretation
Anyone after finishing this book will feel like petting a cat immediately! This book's effect is magical. But here's Bukowski is not petting noble cats, but strayed ones, just like him.
Surprisingly, Bukowski is writing here on just cats, his favorite creatures but not women, beers and bars!
Yeah! How much glory and grace is there in just setting and watching these creatures! They give us a new way to live, to endure the burden of life. At any rate, I prefer watching them straying freely in the alleys, rather than owning them.
***
Bukowski's gang
Beeker
«The factories, the jails, the drunken days and nights, the hospitals have weakened and shaken me like a mouse in the mouth of a hip-cat: life.»
***
«I don't like love as a command, as a search. it must come to you, like a hungry cat at the door.»
***
«The tailless, cross-eyed cat came to the door one day, and we let him in. Old pink eyes. Quite a guy. Animals are inspirational. They don't know how to lie. They are natural forces. TV can make me ill in five minutes, but I can look at an animal for hours and find nothing but grace and glory, life as it should be.»
***
«The bulldog moved closer. I couldn't watch the kill. I felt a great shame at leaving the cat like that. There was always the chance that the cat might try to escape, but I knew that they would prevent it. That cat wasn't only facing the bulldog, it was facing Humanity.»
***
This is the only known drawing of a cat by Charles Bukowski. Other attempts at illustrating cats, came out as dogs.
***
«The good people
with the
good eyes
are very few
yet the fine cats
with great style
lounge about
in the alleys of
the universe.»
***
«All I have to do is
watch my cats
and my courage
returns.
I study these
creatures.
they are my
teachers.»
***
August 21, 2023
“once very thin and nervous
like a starving musician
I fed him well
and he has gotten fat
like a Texas oilman and not so
nervous
but still
odd.
asleep in bed I will awaken
and his nose will be touching my
nose and those
yellow great eyes
P O U R I N G
down into what’s left of my soul
and then I will say —
off, bastard!
get your nose away from my
nose!
purring like a spider full of
flies he will walk off a
little.
I was in the bathtub yesterday
and he came walking in
high on his feet
tail flicking
and I am in there
smoking a cigar and reading the
NEW YORKER
and he leaped up on the edge of the
tub
balancing on the slippery ivory
curving
and I told him
sir, you are a cat and cats
don’t like water.
but he went around to the faucets
and he hung there with his black feet
and the other part of him was
head down
sniffing at the water and the water was
HOT and he started drinking it
the thin red tongue
bashful and miraculous
dipping into the hot water
and he kept
sniffing
wondering what I was doing in there
what I found so good about it
and then that fat white fool
fell in! —
we all came out of there
wet and fast;
cat, me, cigar and NEW YORKER
spitting, screaming, sputtering, soaked
and my wife ran in
MY GOD! WHAT HAPPENED?WHAT HAPPENED?
I spoke through my unraveling cigar:
a man can’t even have a little privacy
in his own bathtub, that’s what!
she only laughed at us
and the cat was not even angry
he was still wet and fat
except for his tail and very sad and
he began licking
himself.
I used a towel,
then I walking into the bedroom
got into bed
and tried to find my place in the
magazine.
but the good mood was broken
I put the publication down
and stared up at the ceiling
up into space where God was supposed to be
then I hear it:
MEEYOWW!
the next stray cat who comes to my door will
remain a
stray.”
like a starving musician
I fed him well
and he has gotten fat
like a Texas oilman and not so
nervous
but still
odd.
asleep in bed I will awaken
and his nose will be touching my
nose and those
yellow great eyes
P O U R I N G
down into what’s left of my soul
and then I will say —
off, bastard!
get your nose away from my
nose!
purring like a spider full of
flies he will walk off a
little.
I was in the bathtub yesterday
and he came walking in
high on his feet
tail flicking
and I am in there
smoking a cigar and reading the
NEW YORKER
and he leaped up on the edge of the
tub
balancing on the slippery ivory
curving
and I told him
sir, you are a cat and cats
don’t like water.
but he went around to the faucets
and he hung there with his black feet
and the other part of him was
head down
sniffing at the water and the water was
HOT and he started drinking it
the thin red tongue
bashful and miraculous
dipping into the hot water
and he kept
sniffing
wondering what I was doing in there
what I found so good about it
and then that fat white fool
fell in! —
we all came out of there
wet and fast;
cat, me, cigar and NEW YORKER
spitting, screaming, sputtering, soaked
and my wife ran in
MY GOD! WHAT HAPPENED?WHAT HAPPENED?
I spoke through my unraveling cigar:
a man can’t even have a little privacy
in his own bathtub, that’s what!
she only laughed at us
and the cat was not even angry
he was still wet and fat
except for his tail and very sad and
he began licking
himself.
I used a towel,
then I walking into the bedroom
got into bed
and tried to find my place in the
magazine.
but the good mood was broken
I put the publication down
and stared up at the ceiling
up into space where God was supposed to be
then I hear it:
MEEYOWW!
the next stray cat who comes to my door will
remain a
stray.”
December 31, 2021
Writing like
this
Isn't and shouldn't be
considered
poetry
this sucked but it was about cats so here's an extra star.
this
Isn't and shouldn't be
considered
poetry
this sucked but it was about cats so here's an extra star.
June 1, 2020
To jest książka na jeden wieczór.
Głównie wiersze, kilka opowiadań (lub ich fragmentów), kilka luźnych refleksji zapisanych gdzieś na kartce i nigdy wcześniej niepublikowanych.
Bukowski kochał koty, ale niekoniecznie za to za co się je najczęściej kocha. Nie za to, że są "słodkie" ale za waleczność, nieustępliwość, wolność. I za to, że mają piękne oczy. I w kilku utworach, głównie wierszach, potrafił ująć te emocje w sposób dość przejmujący: czasem wzruszający a czasem zabawny.
Ale poza tym, nie rozumiem sensu powstawania takich zombie-publikacji.
I to już niestety kolejna taka pozycja podpisana nazwiskiem Bukowskiego: kompilacja różnych treści, które nigdy się nie ukazały za jego życia albo ukazały w innej kompilacji. Publikacja, która jest jedynie efektem grzebania w archiwach utworów, których sam Bukowskie nie opublikowała (może nie chciał). A pisał bardzo dużo, więc jest tego sporo.
Dla mnie tytuł tej książki to lekkie oszustwo. Bo to nie jest książka Bukowskiego tylko wydawcy, który w najprostszy możliwy sposób skompilował to, co wygrzebał z pudeł niepublikowanych utworów autora. I rozumiem sens publikowania takich rzeczy; nie rozumiem natomiast, dlaczego trzeba przy okazji wmawiać ludziom, że publikowanie było intencją autora. Ten, kto to wymyślił jest leniem, któremu nie chciało się opracować tych tekstów w sposób profesjonalny, co miałoby dla wielbicieli Bukowskiego (do których się zaliczam) dużo większą wartość.
Tak się tym wkurzyłem, że chyba muszę sobie szybko przeczytać jakiegoś porządnego Bukowskiego. Chyba zdecyduję się na Szmira
Głównie wiersze, kilka opowiadań (lub ich fragmentów), kilka luźnych refleksji zapisanych gdzieś na kartce i nigdy wcześniej niepublikowanych.
Bukowski kochał koty, ale niekoniecznie za to za co się je najczęściej kocha. Nie za to, że są "słodkie" ale za waleczność, nieustępliwość, wolność. I za to, że mają piękne oczy. I w kilku utworach, głównie wierszach, potrafił ująć te emocje w sposób dość przejmujący: czasem wzruszający a czasem zabawny.
Ale poza tym, nie rozumiem sensu powstawania takich zombie-publikacji.
I to już niestety kolejna taka pozycja podpisana nazwiskiem Bukowskiego: kompilacja różnych treści, które nigdy się nie ukazały za jego życia albo ukazały w innej kompilacji. Publikacja, która jest jedynie efektem grzebania w archiwach utworów, których sam Bukowskie nie opublikowała (może nie chciał). A pisał bardzo dużo, więc jest tego sporo.
Dla mnie tytuł tej książki to lekkie oszustwo. Bo to nie jest książka Bukowskiego tylko wydawcy, który w najprostszy możliwy sposób skompilował to, co wygrzebał z pudeł niepublikowanych utworów autora. I rozumiem sens publikowania takich rzeczy; nie rozumiem natomiast, dlaczego trzeba przy okazji wmawiać ludziom, że publikowanie było intencją autora. Ten, kto to wymyślił jest leniem, któremu nie chciało się opracować tych tekstów w sposób profesjonalny, co miałoby dla wielbicieli Bukowskiego (do których się zaliczam) dużo większą wartość.
Tak się tym wkurzyłem, że chyba muszę sobie szybko przeczytać jakiegoś porządnego Bukowskiego. Chyba zdecyduję się na Szmira
September 23, 2017
Se este não é o melhor livro do Bukowski, nenhum outro o é.
Um leitor
meu gato cagou nos meus arquivos
ele trepou na minha caixa de laranjas
de Golden State Sunkist
e cagou nos meus poemas
meus originais de poemas
preservados para os arquivos das universidades.
esse crítico preto gordo de uma orelha só
ele encerrou as minhas atividades.
Ter um monte de gatos em volta é bom. Quando você não se sente bem, é só olhar para os gatos, você logo se sente melhor, porque eles sabem que tudo é simplesmente do jeito que é. Não há nenhum motivo para grandes exaltações. Eles simplesmente sabem. São salvadores. Quanto mais gatos tem, mais tempo você vive. Se tiver cem gatos, vai viver dez vezes mais tempo do que se tiver dez. Um dia vão descobrir isso, e as pessoas vão ter mil gatos e viver pra sempre. É verdadeiramente ridículo.
meus gatos
eu sei. eu sei.
eles são limitados, têm diferentes
necessidades e
preocupações.
mas observo e aprendo com eles.
gosto do pouco que eles sabem,
que é
tanto.
eles reclamam mas nunca
se inquietam.
caminham com uma dignidade surpreendente.
dormem com uma simplicidade direta que
os humanos simplesmente não conseguem
entender.
seus olhos são mais
belos do que nossos olhos.
e eles conseguem doremir 20 horas
por dia
sem
hesitação ou
remorso.
quando estou me sentindo
pra baixo
tudo que preciso fazer é
observar meus gatos
e a minha
coragem retorna.
estudo essas
criaturas.
são meus
professores.
Um leitor
meu gato cagou nos meus arquivos
ele trepou na minha caixa de laranjas
de Golden State Sunkist
e cagou nos meus poemas
meus originais de poemas
preservados para os arquivos das universidades.
esse crítico preto gordo de uma orelha só
ele encerrou as minhas atividades.
Ter um monte de gatos em volta é bom. Quando você não se sente bem, é só olhar para os gatos, você logo se sente melhor, porque eles sabem que tudo é simplesmente do jeito que é. Não há nenhum motivo para grandes exaltações. Eles simplesmente sabem. São salvadores. Quanto mais gatos tem, mais tempo você vive. Se tiver cem gatos, vai viver dez vezes mais tempo do que se tiver dez. Um dia vão descobrir isso, e as pessoas vão ter mil gatos e viver pra sempre. É verdadeiramente ridículo.
meus gatos
eu sei. eu sei.
eles são limitados, têm diferentes
necessidades e
preocupações.
mas observo e aprendo com eles.
gosto do pouco que eles sabem,
que é
tanto.
eles reclamam mas nunca
se inquietam.
caminham com uma dignidade surpreendente.
dormem com uma simplicidade direta que
os humanos simplesmente não conseguem
entender.
seus olhos são mais
belos do que nossos olhos.
e eles conseguem doremir 20 horas
por dia
sem
hesitação ou
remorso.
quando estou me sentindo
pra baixo
tudo que preciso fazer é
observar meus gatos
e a minha
coragem retorna.
estudo essas
criaturas.
são meus
professores.
May 12, 2023
On Cats is a collection of poetry and prose about cats. Bukowski and cats, what’s not to love?
"I don't like love as a command, as a search. It must come to you, like a hungry cat at the door."
"sometimes a man doesn't know what to do about things
and sometimes it's best to lie very still
and try not to think at all
about anything."
"love is the crushed cats
of the universe"
"Animals are inspirational. They don't know how to lie. They are natural forces. TV can make me ill in five minutes, but I can look at an animal for hours and find nothing but grace and glory, life as it should be."
"in other words
magic persists
without us
no matter what
we do against it."
"when I fart
my cat could care
less."
“In my next life I want to be a cat. To sleep 20 hours a day and wait to be fed. To sit around licking my ass. Humans are too miserable and angry and single-minded.”
"I don't like love as a command, as a search. It must come to you, like a hungry cat at the door."
"sometimes a man doesn't know what to do about things
and sometimes it's best to lie very still
and try not to think at all
about anything."
"love is the crushed cats
of the universe"
"Animals are inspirational. They don't know how to lie. They are natural forces. TV can make me ill in five minutes, but I can look at an animal for hours and find nothing but grace and glory, life as it should be."
"in other words
magic persists
without us
no matter what
we do against it."
"when I fart
my cat could care
less."
“In my next life I want to be a cat. To sleep 20 hours a day and wait to be fed. To sit around licking my ass. Humans are too miserable and angry and single-minded.”
November 1, 2016
Proza en gedichten van de man die je niet in de OR wil bij je levertransplantatie. En oh ja, alle teksten gaan over katten. Spingoed.
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